


Only So Much Self-Restraint (Only So Much I Can Take)

by sarcastic_fina



Series: Darcy Lewis Smut Week [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Bruce executes a lot of self restraint, Coulson is alive 'cause he's too badass not to be, Darcy Lewis Smut Week, F/M, Just not enough, Prompt: melting, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I swear if you pull the friend zone shit on me, I will run off into the sunset with your green alter ego and you'll be the one who's only allowed out to play on rare occasions."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only So Much Self-Restraint (Only So Much I Can Take)

Bruce winced as the ice hit his shoulder, head ducking at the icy cold, misshapen cubes pressing against his sore muscles.

With a sigh, Darcy knelt beside him, the couch dipping as she settled on it. "This would probably be better without your shirt on," she suggested.

He raised a knowing brow at her and wasn't surprised when she answered with a cheeky smirk. "It's cold enough without skin contact," he informed her, trying to sound professional.

Her body heat seeping into his side was making it hard, however. And since she was wearing pajamas, having woken up in the middle of the night when the tower came alive with the return of the team, it was hard for him to keep his eyes off the bare skin she was showing. Darcy wasn't exactly the silk nightgown type, although he imagined (much to his own chagrin) that she probably had a number of lacey under-things packed in her dresser. In fact, on more than one occasion, his mind had wandered to that forbidden place, imagining her in sheer negligees with black lace fringing the curves of her impressive chest.

Gulping as the image was conjured to mind, he shifted on the couch. Suddenly the ache of transforming back from The Other Guy and feeling it deep in his bones was the least of his worries. Darcy was wearing Snoopy pajama pants that hung off her hips and a green tank top that left her arms and midriff bared; his mouth twisted uncontrollably at the color. Sometimes he swore she did that specifically because of him. And then he reminded himself that she was just flirty, and helpful, and that it was a hopeless crush that would fade quickly.

Except he'd known Darcy for more than a year now; she was Coulson's go-to-girl for just about everything these days. Sure, she wasn't proficient in any weapon except her tazer, despite Natasha trying more than once to train her, before eventually becoming exasperated with her, calling her untrainable, and giving up. Only to become further irritated that she _couldn't_ train Darcy and force herself to try again, deciding she was a challenge. And the master assassin _never_ passed up on one of those. But Darcy proved to be a less than enthusiastic student and instead preferred to run errands, answer phones (very rarely with any kind of polite, politically correct wording as she did), wrangle the Avengers when necessary and often with her own brand of snark, all while learning every classified bit of information that passed her or Coulson's desk, going so far as to just fill in the redacted bits herself (oftentimes with ridiculous, dramatic, completely unlikely twists to whatever she was reading, and then informing Bruce of it over what she called their "mandatory, daily coffee/tea break", which in turn was just an excuse for her to play with his 'fluffy' hair and him to fight a losing battle of being infatuated with her).

He was also aware there was a betting pool going on as to whether he would finally give in to what Tony had dubbed his "dirty old man needs" and just take her on every hard surface of the tower. So far, he thought he was doing a pretty good job. A year of control for a man who had been battling with it all his life was something to be marveled at, especially when that man turned into a giant green rage monster when provoked too far. Darcy's provoking wasn't of the same nature, however, and he wondered if that might play into the situation more than expected.

She wasn't subtle; she'd made her attraction well known, if her statement three weeks after meeting of him wasn't proof enough.

_"So listen, Dr. Fluffy, I get that you're probably going to pull the 'I'm too old, angry, and on a whole other intelligence scale than you' card, but I'm just going to lay this out here anyway…_ I like you _." She shrugged, smiling only slightly at his slack-jawed expression. "And I've already read your tragic love story with the brainy, scienc-y, professor chick, so you've also got the tortured soul schtick to work with, props. But I'm not the average, hit the brakes, back it up when things look tough, type. I mean sure, things got rough when a God touched down and what's six credits when you're faced with possible death via rainbow bridge, right?"_

_She scoffed. "And maybe in the grand scheme, this looks like it's dangerous, life-threatening, possibly really stupid, but… I'm gonna keep pushing this until you give it a try and we see where this goes. Personally, I'm thinking some really awesome sex, which…" Her eyes widened, "considering how much sexual frustration you've probably had to curb for however long, it's going to be mind blowing!" she cheered._

_As he rubbed the back of his neck, stuttering, she continued, "I'm thinking we can make it work outside of the bedroom too, though, right? I mean, I've given it some serious thought in between making sure Jane gets her daily dose of poptarts, while also secretly sneaking healthy food into her diet to make sure it has some kind of balance, and making sure Coulson doesn't die of an early heart-attack from basically carrying the weight of everyone's fuck-ups on his shoulder."_

_She leaned in, darting her eyes side to side, before telling him in a stage-whisper, "Just between you and me, I think when Fury calls him in his office to bitch at him, he's got some kind of Jedi mind trick going… I mean who else would put up with this much crazy?" She shook her head. "I bet he just flips the eye-patch up and there's some hypnotizing Stark-made thingamabob that makes sure Coulson doesn't retire early and save himself anymore hair loss from teaching the underlings not to shoot their foot off while also juggling the Avengers…" She nodded at him seriously. "Think about it."_

_He blinked at her, not entirely sure where the conversation took such an odd turn._

_"Anyway." She hopped up from his desk, turned her head, planted a smacking kiss on his cheek, smiling as she wiped away her lipstick, and told him, "Just thought I'd give you a heads-up." She shrugged as she started toward the lab doors. "I'll be back at two. You, me, a little caffeine boost to keep you from falling asleep on all your science. Sound good?" She didn't wait for a reply, instead backing out of his lab with a thumbs-up in his direction._

_As the doors swung closed, Bruce reached up and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "..._ What? _" he asked the otherwise empty room._

And ever since, Darcy had made it clear that her intentions hadn't changed. She wasn't afraid to tease him or force herself into his personal space, rubbing herself up against his back as she read what he was doing over his shoulder. Every day she was there with his favorite tea or lunch, forcing his attention away from his work just long enough to eat. Often while she affectionately ran her fingers through his hair and informed him of what weirdness Coulson had to deal with that day and asking what he was up to, paying attention as he laid out what he was working with even as it was obvious she wasn't always exactly sure what he was talking about. And just to torture himself further, he went and asked her why she bothered asking. She smiled that wry smile of hers, turned her head, and said sincerely, "I like how excited your voice gets."

It was dangerous, how close he was getting. How much he wanted her. Despite the voice in his head that told him it was unsafe, un _fair_ even, he couldn't help a general physical desire for her. In the beginning, he told himself that was all it was. She was the first woman since Betty to show an interest in him, even while knowing that The Other Guy simmered under the surface. She never hesitated to reach out and run a hand down his arm, or stroke his cheek while telling him he should probably shave, or rest her head on his shoulder at random, saying she was tired or just humming as she breathed in his cologne. Physically, yes, there was a definite attraction there. He could easily dismiss that via science; as hormones and pheromones. Darcy was an attractive woman; she was all curves and soft skin and striking sensuality, from her pouty red lips to her generous figure to the way her eyes seemed to darken whenever they landed on him.

But it was more than that.

Darcy reached out for the man, and not just because she wanted to get him in her bed. Sometimes she showed up just because she wanted to talk, wanted to needle him for his taste in music before forcing him to dance with her in the community living room, shifting all the furniture out of the way as she pulled him up and shuffled in close to him. Or when she baked for him, saying it was a Lewis family recipe from way back, plying him with personally made baked goods; just the smell of which managed to rouse him from almost any science coma he could've found himself in. There were nights that she made him watch movies with her, rubbing his feet while she put on a movie she either knew he already loved or something he'd never watched before, wanting to push him out of his carefully constructed box.

There were times when she wasn't even there, but he felt her presence. When she'd pop into his lab, leave him to his work, and drop something on the desk for him to find whenever he finally looked up from his equations and microscope, with a little green sticky note telling him to take a break, signed with her loopy name at the bottom and a scribbled heart. Times like those reminded him that someone cared; someone who wasn't a team member or a fellow scientist with an insatiable curiosity to understand just what made him tick. In a way, she was like Tony; she was snarky and she bore no fear toward him. If anything, she liked to push his limits, liked to remind him that he didn't have to stay inside his clear-cut boundaries all the time.

But it was more than the friendship he had with Tony; more than just general camaraderie between two people. He cared about Darcy and she cared about him. There were days when he knew 'cared' couldn't even capture what he felt. Like when he returned from a fight, feeling battered and bruised, and she wasn't scared or nervous. Not even when his temper was shot and he was short and cutting with everybody around him. Instead, she pushed forward and wrapped him up in a hug or dragged him somewhere to eat and rest. Sometimes, she just helped him lay down on the couch, taking his head in her lap and stroking his hair until he slept off the way his whole body ached.

And those were the moments that he knew he loved her. Loved the woman who once tazed a God and just last month accidentally tazed Fury (and somehow managed to live). The woman who made him homemade chicken noodle soup on days when he was feeling his worst. Who had written him a collection of post-it notes telling him he was cute or to take a break or that she found him drooling an hour ago and it was now the wallpaper on her phone (all of which he had kept; stuffing in a drawer that he sometimes looked at when he was having a rough day).

"You hit that wall pretty hard," she said from next to him.

His eyes cut toward her and he shook his head, partly to bring himself back to the conversation at hand. He smiled bitterly. "You saw that, huh?"

"Those news guys need a serious raise for flying into the war zone every time," she told him.

"Or a psych eval," he muttered.

She snorted, amused. Shifting slightly, sliding the ice down his shoulder a few inches, she said, "Hulk shook it off. Literally. He got up out of that half-crushed building, shook the bricks out of his hair, gave one of those insanely devious smiles of his, and rushed them…"

Bruce rolled his eyes; she sounded entirely too proud of his green alter-ego. "I'm guessing you approve."

She grinned at him. "You kidding? Served those jerks right!" Her eyes moved to his hurt shoulder. "Proof's in the pain, Doc." She reached across him and fiddled with the collar of his shirt, her lips pursed. "Could've been a lot worse if Big Green didn't start smashing."

"Yeah, well, don't chalk it up to wanting to save the world just yet; smashing is just in his nature. Frankly, I still don't think he'd care if it was the bad guy or the good guy. Whatever gets in his path…" He frowned darkly.

"Fine, so he might've knocked Thor around a bit," she admitted, scoffing dismissively. "Blonde and Godly can take it…" She shook her head. "I watched the whole thing though; he knows who he needs to go after and he does. If they happened to piss him off by throwing him into a building, thus making sure his attention stays on them, _whatever_. Somebody should award them for not thinking that plan through all the way."

His lips curled, faintly amused. "You've got a lot of faith in someone who likes to upend whole buildings and uses cars like a bowling ball."

She smirked. "Well, he was a lot easier to win over than you."

Bruce's smile faded entirely and he gave a long, suffering sigh. "Don't remind me," he asked.

"Just further proof that not only is he a semi-decent guy, but that deep down, you like me more than you're willing to admit," she told him, readjusting the icepack as it began to melt, the ice shifting.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. "You know I like you, Darcy," he said seriously.

Her eyes fell and a flash of insecurity passed over her face. "Who doesn't?" she joked to hide it. "Like I just pointed out, even Hulk saved me a time or two from impending death by alien enemies out to make a Darcy suit." She wrinkled her nose. "Flayed skin, so out of style."

His mouth folded in a frown. "Besides Tony, you know you're the closest person to me," he told her. "You're one of my best fr—"

The pressure on his back increased and her eyes cut toward him. "I swear if you pull the friend zone shit on me, I will run off into the sunset with your green alter ego and _you_ 'll be the one who's only allowed out to play on rare occasions."

His mouth twitched at the visual, but at her angry expression he tamped it down. "Darcy…"

Blowing out an exasperated breath, she hitched the pack up onto his shoulder and left it there, climbing off the couch. "I'm thirsty," she muttered, moving toward the kitchen.

Bruce reached back to catch the pack before it slid away, but his eyes were set on the sway of her hips, her pajama pants sinking lower, the pale skin of her back showing. His fingers twitched and he swallowed as his mouth went dry.

"Tea, soda, or something stronger?" she called back to him.

Right then, despite abstaining from alcohol to maintain all of his faculties, he really wanted a good, stiff drink. "I'm fine," he told her.

She hummed, and for a moment he missed the snarky reply of, "You got that right," that she usually snapped back with a suggestive smirk.

The crack of a can drew his eyes and as she walked back, his eyes settled on the orange Crush soda she carried.

She frowned at him. "No judgy eyes, Doc. I can drink pure sugar at…" She squinted at the clock, "Three in the morning if I want to." She sat down on the couch next to him, but there was a noticeable amount of distance between them that hadn't been there in a very long time. "I think by now we can both agree that I'm an _adult_ and can therefore make my own decisions," she said, with a somewhat bitter edge to her words.

Bruce worked his jaw, glaring at the coffee table in front of them. "Sometimes I question your decision making," he said.

"Yeah, I've noticed," she returned.

He looked over at her, his brow furrowed. "Darcy, we can either talk about this or not… I don't want things to be difficult between us."

"What's difficult?" she wondered. "I've spent a year pursuing you, you've been exerting a _ridiculous_ amount of control, and now you're trying to give me that stern talking to wherein you lay out all the ways you and I would be wrong together…" She rolled her eyes. "It happens once a month; I don't know why I haven't memorized it by now."

"Even if we were to completely ignore all the other ways you and I shouldn't be together, from The Other Guy to the age difference…" He stared at her searchingly. "Is this the life you want for yourself? Icing down your boyfriend at three in the morning? Making sure he eats, sleeps, showers…?" He smiled sarcastically. "And you know what, I've changed my mind, let's bring The Other Guy back into it…" He waved his hands around. "What are people going to think about you if you take up with me, huh? When you're pushing the bounds of your safety by being with someone who could snap at any second and hurt you? _Kill_ you?" He shook his head. "What kind of life is that?"

"I couldn't care less about what other people think, and screw you for trying to use that as some kind of excuse," she told him, wagging her finger. "It's _you_ that's terrified of coming out of your green haze and realizing you lost it and I got hurt in the crossfire," she accused.

His jaw ticked, teeth clenched. "Does that really surprise you?"

"It's been a _year,_ " she reminded, throwing her hands up. "Every spare moment of your free time has been spent with me and not only have you not hurt me, but you've _saved_ me, _repeatedly!_ " She shook her head. "You might not trust that side of you, but _I_ do!"

"You _shouldn't!_ " he shouted, his face flushed with anger. "You're being impetuous; you're risking your life for some ridiculous infatuation with someone who's not even _good enough_ for you!"

"Why?" she demanded. "Because you've got control issues and daddy issues and you get bitter and sarcastic and push away anybody who gets too close?" She leaned into him, incensed. "So _what?_ We've all got issues, Bruce! We either work with them or we let them get the better of us and frankly, I'm _tired_ of watching you let them control your life!"

Dropping her soda can to the table, she turned in her seat to face him better and shook her head, her messy wave of hair slipping over her shoulder. Her voice shook, whether the strain of tamping down her anger or the emotional baring of her soul was taking a lot out of her, he wasn't sure; probably both. "You have enough control to be friends with Tony _freaking_ Stark and not lose your shit! You have enough control to change when necessary to save the damn _world!_ You have enough control to be around me every day for a year even when I'm practically _forcing_ myself on you!" She laughed humorlessly.

"So I think it's pretty damn obvious by now that if you _wanted_ me, if you wanted to have a normal, functional, _happy_ life… You _could!_ " She stared at him. "But either you don't want to or you just don't want _me_ …" She swallowed tightly, firming her jaw when her lips trembled. "Either way, you need to figure out what the real issue is and just _fix it_ already."

She threw her hands up. "Fine, if I'm not your— your _Pepper_ or your _Jane_ , if you just want _Betty_ , then go _get_ her. But don't…" She turned her eyes up to avoid the sting. "Don't _waste_ yourself on all of this pointless bullshit!"

Silence reigned after that; a thick, tense, heavy silence that consumed him. She turned back around, facing away from him, while he continued to stare at her profile; the red ringing her eyes and the way her jaw flexed as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

Finally, she was done pretending, and she stood from the couch. "I'm going to bed," she whispered. As she walked away, he saw her hand reach up beneath her glasses to swipe at her eyes and something in his chest snapped, broke.

"Wait."

She paused.

He gathered his strength and let out a shaky breath. " _Wait_."

She didn't move, didn't come back to him, she just stood, careful not to look at him, completely still.

He stood from the couch, letting his hand fall from his shoulder, gripping the icepack in his hand tightly as he moved around to stand behind her. He watched as her shoulders trembled and her fingers furled into fists at her sides.

And he reached out, letting his hand settle on the small of her back; his warm palm covered that sliver of skin between her shirt and her pants. He closed his eyes, awareness washing over him, making his skin feel hot and tight. He felt as she turned, as her body pressed to his, breasts flattened against his chest, hips pressed together. She let her head fall back and he felt the puff of warm air leave her and chase across his lips.

This was the time to execute control; to step back and put distance between them, to reassert that they wouldn't work. That he was too dangerous for her. But then she was rising up onto the tips of her toes and her lips were brushing his; soft, gentle, like she was trying to ease him into it.

His eyes opened, staring down at her; at the wrinkle between her eyebrows, the slope of her nose, the soft curl of her eyelashes against her cheeks. He focused on the faint pressure of her mouth against his and finally relaxed; his shoulders slumping with relief, his eyes falling closed once more.

His other arm banded around her, the icepack pressed up against her skin, squeezed tight in his grip, as he pulled her impossibly closer and settled his mouth against hers firmly. He suckled her lower lip between his, teeth sinking into soft flesh, before his tongue soothed away his bite and reached to flick her upper lip, and finally slipped inside her mouth. She whimpered, her arms coming around his neck, and she ground her hips against his as she dabbed at his tongue with hers. Her fingers feathered through his hair before tightening around it, keeping him close like she thought he'd pull away and stop what had begun. It wasn't a surprising or even completely unlikely scenario; he'd been keeping her at a distance for a year. As much of a distance as he could when he constantly went in search of her companionship even while telling himself he shouldn't.

They stumbled back, bumping into the couch so hard it shifted a few inches forward, leaving it askew. Shuffling the other direction, they hit the stools under the island counter of the kitchen; the grating nose of them scraping across the sound seeming to echo in the quiet. Briefly, somewhere in the back of his mind, he worried it might alert the others; that this moment, this kiss, might be cut short.

But then she was tugging on his lip with her teeth and all he could think about, all he could feel, was her. His hands moved over the thin fabric of her tank top, before finally one sunk underneath the shirt and pressed hard against the skin of her arching back, feeling her soft skin spread out beneath his palm.

Somehow, their stumbling brought them to the elevator; he was fairly sure they'd taken out a painting or two that Pepper had placed around the hallway leading into the communal living space. It was a good thing their rooms weren't all crowded on the one floor or he imagined the whole team would've come to see what the racket was about already. Thankfully, however, they managed to get into the elevator, where he pinned her back against the wall, reaching down to squeeze her thigh as she hooked her leg over his hip and dragged him in tight. The numbers climbed to his floor, a faint beep to acknowledge each passing floor between. Thankfully he only shared with Steve, having their own apartment-like suites on either side of the floor. Steve, unlike the other Avengers, would likely take note of what was happening and promptly leave them alone. Unlike Tony who would start with clapping, move into a monologue, and eventually end with inviting the rest of the team to join in celebrating that they'd finally gotten together, possibly ending with the results of who'd won the betting pot.

But as they made their way into his bedroom, after he stumbled with the key pad, there was no crowd to hinder them. Unwilling to keep his hands off her, he'd stripped her shirt up to the top of her breasts and had his hand down her pajama pants before he realized he needed it. The door closed behind them with a thud and as it did, Darcy stepped back from him.

He frowned immediately, his chest heaving with each panting breath, but his immediate concern that something had gone sideways when he wasn't paying attention faded as quickly as it came. She stripped her top the rest of the way off, leaving her in just a muted grey sports bra, and shucked her pajama pants down too, kicking them away.

He pursed his lips. "I was looking forward to taking Snoopy off myself."

She rolled her eyes, amused. "Next time," she said, before reaching for his shirt and pulling it up. He ducked his head through the hole and glanced at it as it joined her clothes on the floor. As her fingers reached for his pants, he opened his mouth. "This is so not the time to ask me if I'm sure," she told him, untying the string of his sweatpants, the only thing that felt comfortable when his body had been hurting from the stretch and burn of muscles as he'd transformed. Maybe it was the anticipation of what was happening, but he couldn't feel that sharp ache of before any longer.

His hands shook as she looped her thumbs in the side of his pants and pushed them down. He briefly realized he still had the icepack in hand and that it was leaking, melting ice dribbling over the edges of his fist. As he stepped out of the pooled fabric at his feet, Darcy scrubbed her fingers down his chest, nails scraping over his abdomen. She bit her lip and gave a sharp sigh, eyebrows pinching together.

He paused, uncertain. "What?" he asked, looking down at himself.

She smiled. "You're perfect."

He scoffed, mouth twisting in a deprecating smile. "I'm far from—"

"Shht," she interrupted, reaching up to cover his mouth. When she looked up, she raised a brow. "You're perfect."

He stared at her a moment, at the sincere, loving expression on her face, and he bit that pad of her finger. She jumped before a wide smile spread her lips. That dark, smoky look returned to her bright, blue eyes and she moved in closer to him, her covered breasts brushing his bare chest; he felt a shudder of long-tempered desire run through him. She ran a nail across the band of his boxier-briefs and snapped it against his hip.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours, Doc," she said with a teasing lilt.

He ducked his head down and buried it in her neck, dragging his teeth over her collar bone, smirking as she shivered and let a breathy cry out, arching up into him, her hand reaching for and squeezing his side.

Bruce started walking, maneuvering her back toward the bed until her knees hit the edge and she slipped back onto the mattress. She looked confused for a moment as she stared up at him. When he reached for her, he realized he still had the ice pack in hand and dropped it haphazardly; his hand was cold and wet as he let it rest on her stomach. She inhaled sharply at the feel, her stomach contracting abruptly. Water dripped off of him as he slid his fingertips down her belly and hooked his hand under the front of her panties. He pulled and her hips arched up off the bed, her weight settling on her elbows, pressing down into the mattress and holding her up. She wiggled her hips and he smoothed the fabric of her underwear down and off her, letting his hands smooth down her soft legs.

Darcy bit her lip, dropping her heels to the edge of the bed, her legs spread for him to stand between. His eyes settled on her pussy, wet and open. Instead of waiting for his help, she grabbed the side of her bra and pulled, yanking it off and over her head, where it pulled her hair from beneath her and let it fall, spread out around her as she lay completely naked.

She was beautiful.

All that time he'd spent imagining her in lingerie was nothing compared to this. Her perfect, round breasts, tipped in pebbled pink nipples. Her pale, white, milky soft skin. The flare of her hips; the flat span of her stomach; a pale, healed, red dot above her belly-button from when she'd pierced it in high school and then tossed it in college. The dark, shaved hair leading down to her wet, pink folds.

He dropped to his knees, his hands sliding from her knees down her thighs. A strangled noise left her mouth and he looked at her; a flush filled her skin from her chest up to her cheeks. He pressed her legs further apart with his arms, his hands folding around her hips and sliding down, thumbs following the crease between her sex and her thighs. Her back arched as just the heat of his breath skittered over her, her head lolling back. He dragged his tongue across her and smiled as she let out a long hum, her thighs flexing.

She was tangy, warm on his tongue; he buried his mouth against her and took slow, long licks, dragging his tongue flat against her. She was panting, her hands gripping the blanket beneath her. He startled suckling on her inner labia before turning to let his nose bump against her clit. He teased around her, letting his teeth gently scrape, his tongue dab and rub and flick across her. His hands slid up her stomach, thumbs rubbing over her ribs, before he ran his fingertips around the underside of her breasts, moving between them before finally letting them settle over them completely, squeezing in the same moment he flicked her clit with his tongue.

She pushed up into his hands while she ground her hips against his mouth. His fingers thrummed across her nipples while he slid his tongue lower to circle her entrance. He spent a few minutes slowly exploring, keeping her at the cusp, enjoying the breathy, high pitched, desperate sounds she was making. Before finally, he let one of his hands trail back down. He wrapped his lips around her clit and sunk a finger inside her as his other hand pinched and rolled her nipple. Darcy cried out, her toes curling.

She fluttered around his finger, squeezing a few times as he drew it out until he sunk it back inside, curved.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered, dragging her nails across the blanket beneath her.

He bit her thigh lightly. "You've got a scientist between your legs, and you wanna thank _God?_ " he teased.

A stuttering laugh escaped her. "Thank the Periodic Table?" she returned.

He grinned. "Better," he said, thrusting his fingers in deep and curling them toward himself until they rubbed that spongy spot inside of her that made her foot slip off the edge of the bed and just barely miss kicking the end table.

Note to self: Darcy kicks.

With a deep chuckle, he lowered his mouth to her once more and licked circles around her clit.

She was wiggling noticeably now; shifting down on the bed, her hips pressing up, asking for more pressure.

He slid up from his position kneeling on the floor and crawled up her, his fingers still moving shallowly between her wet thighs. He kissed up her stomach, nuzzled the underside of her breast, and smiled as her hand slid through his hair.

"Fluffy," she sighed.

He wrapped his mouth around her nipple and sucked deep as he turned his thumb up and stroked her clit.

Her grip on his hair tightened.

His teeth and tongue worked her nipple while his fingers moved quicker, harder.

Darcy's mouth fell open in a silent cry; the flush that had previously just been a faint pink was now a bright red, filling her face and spreading across her chest and shoulders. He watched her as she came apart; as her neck strained with her head thrown back, her every muscle tightening, her breath caught in her throat. She was squeezing his fingers so tightly, he could only wait for her to come down, his thumb still gently rubbing her clit.

She spasmed around him, her body falling back to the bed, her breath coming out in a rush. Her eyes were closed, her glasses fogged; it was the sexiest thing he'd seen in his life.

Sliding his fingers out, he rested his palm on her stomach and propped his head up with his other arm, watching her lazy smile as her head turned and she looked over at him, her brow arched.

"Just like I thought…" she murmured. "Fan- _freakin_ '-tastic."

His mouth twitched, amused. "It's been awhile, but I'm pretty sure that was just my warm up."

Slowly, Darcy turned over onto her side, his hand smoothing up to her hip while she slid her leg up and over, resting it on his thigh. She paused, took her glasses off and reached back to drop them on the end table before returning to look up at him, biting her lip. "You look relaxed for a guy who's going to get some after a _long_ freaking time."

He laughed, his eyes falling to the bed between them for a moment. "Maybe you broke down my defenses better than I thought."

"Well…" She reached for him, dragging her fingers through his hair. "I'm sneaky like that."

His brows hiked. "You're possibly the least subtle person I've ever met."

Scoffing, Darcy rolled her eyes. "Most of your friends are superheroes and spies; I don't think we've got an equal scale going on here."

He shrugged. "You raise a good point."

"We'll reason it out later… You can break out the white board and hypothesize my sneakiness to death." She leaned into him and suckled his lower lip, sinking her teeth into it and tugging. "I think you said something about their being a main event…?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Bruce slid his fingers up her back, enjoying the expanse of naked skin that he'd wanted to touch for a very long time. Suddenly, control was incredibly overrated. He pressed into her kiss and shifted her back against the bed, sliding between her thighs. Her hands slid down his sides, finding the edges of his underwear and shoving them down and away. It took some moving around, but eventually they were on the floor, and his erection was pressed against her soft stomach.

With a not-so-subtle smirk, Darcy's eyes moved between them to take him in. "Color me suitably impressed," she told him, sliding her hands between them to wrap around him.

Bruce's mouth fell open on a sharp gasp as her fingers circled him and squeezed, hands twisting in opposite directions. He could feel her eyes on him as his own fell shut and he thrust into her grip, his arms shaking as they tried to hold him up, hands pinned on either side of her, sinking into the mattress. Darcy's knees slid up his sides in the same moment her thumb swept across the head of his cock, rubbing pre-cum in widening circles.

"Not to bring down the mood, but you've got protection, right?"

His eyes opened and stared down at her, stuck in a haze for a second. "Protection," he repeated.

"Yeah, you know, condoms? Rubbers? Latex baby stoppers?"

He shook his head, trying to focus; it didn't help that her hands were still moving, her fingers sliding down the underside of his cock to curl beneath his balls. "Tony," he said.

She paused. "What?"

He swallowed tightly. "Tony filled my… my bedside table with condoms."

She blinked. "… _why?_ "

His brows furrowed, and suddenly, realizing what that could imply, he corrected the assumption, "He thought it was a good joke…" His lips pursed. "Or he was trying to tell me to sleep with you already." He shrugged. "Maybe both."

"I prefer the second," she said, but shifted out from beneath him.

His lips pursed, missing her hands.

She laughed under her breath. "Trust me, that's not the last time these hands get acquainted with the mini-Doc."

"Mini," he repeated, glaring. "What happened to suitably impressed?"

Digging in his table, she pulled out a strip of condoms, stuck them in her teeth, and shuffled back down the bed and beneath him. Grabbing them once more, she tore one off and dropped the rest on the pillow beside them before using her teeth to open it. With a roll of her eyes, she answered him, "Do _you_ have a name for him? Because I could come up with a few if Mini-Doc offends your delicate sensibilities," she told him.

"Just the mini part," he argued, watching as her hands slid between them and rolled the condom on him, his throat tightening at the feeling of her fingers.

"You wanna go foreign?" She squeezed her hand around him. "How's _Alejandro?_ "

His eyebrow ticked.

"Fine." She pouted, smiling a second later when he kissed her. "What about…?" She trailed off, her eyes narrowed in thought.

"How about we name it after a test drive?" he suggested, sliding his hand down to hitch her thigh up onto his hip.

She smiled then, eyes settling on him once more. "You drive a hard bargain, but I think I can agree to your terms."

Shaking his head with a slight roll of his eyes, Bruce leaned down to slant his lips across hers again. For a few minutes, that's all he did; that and trace the back of her thigh with his fingers. He enjoyed this; the intimacy of just laying her with her like this. Of her hands sliding up and down his back, her nails dragging through his hair, her teeth biting at his lips.

His head was buried in the crook of her neck when he finally sunk into her; the tight heat of her wrapping around him so completely, his breath left him in a rush. His hand gripped the blanket just a few inches from her head, every muscle of his body tensing and twitching. It was almost too much, even with all of the control he'd executed in the last couple years, pushing himself to be stronger, to keep The Other guy at bay.

Darcy's fingers started at his hips; she rubbed circles across his skin, larger and higher, spreading up his back until they reached his shoulders and then she rubbed her thumbs up the tense lines of his neck before she receded back down to his waist, nails dragging along his spine, and finally her hands sunk low to grip his ass.

"Trust me," she murmured against his ear, nipping the shell. Rubbing her nose against his hair, she added, "Trust _yourself_."

He focused on kissing her shoulders, on trailing his mouth down her chest, where he swirled his tongue around her nipples as he moved just an inch deeper at a time. When he finally bottomed out, he was panting at the valley of her breasts, his slick forehead stuck to her sweat dampened skin.

She pushed her fingers through his hair and down to his shoulders, squeezing and kneading the tense muscles there. He could feel her fluttering around him, squeezing and rippling. Screw the periodic table; _Jesus Fucking Christ,_ she felt good.

Her legs wrapped around his waist and encouraged him to move. He slid up her body, their chests rubbing together, and pressed his forehead to her cheek as he pulled out a few inches before sliding back in. Slowly, a rhythm worked between them and he stopped thinking so much about how it could go wrong, instead focusing on how amazing it felt. How freeing it felt to just have her and be with her.

Darcy was vocal; half of it was swearing, but the other half was his name or begging for it harder or telling him how good it felt. Her nails scraped down his chest and gripped his hips, thumbs rubbing his hipbones as she looked between them and watched him as he moved inside her. "Oh fuck, fuck yes…" Her head fell back and she hiked her knees up higher.

Bruce slid a hand between them, finding and rubbing her clit, wanting to see her fall apart again.

Her face screwed up and she let out a half-sob as she came, reaching back behind her head to grab the blanket, twisting it in her fingers. As she arched up into him, a second wave hitting her hard, she pulled the blanket up abruptly and something shifted.

He felt it splash against his thigh and for a second he was confused. But when he looked back, he saw the melting ice pack had rolled down the bed. Cold water was leaking out and spreading across the blanket.

Darcy inhaled sharply as ice water sunk beneath her skin. "Fuck!" she said, only this time it wasn't the good kind.

He twisted them sideways and reached down to shove it away, laughing breathlessly. Darcy took the opportunity to push him down onto his back, shifting so she was sitting atop him. He stared up at her; dark hair tangled, mouth red and bruised, love bites littering her pale skin. She smirked at him devilishly before she set the pace, her knees sinking in on either side of him.

His hands slid up her thighs and settled on her waist as she swiveled her hips and lifted herself up, squeezing at random, wet and tight around the length of his cock. She dragged her nails through the dark hair leading down across his stomach. Arching her hips so she was dragging her clit against him as she moved, each sharp movement made her breasts bounce. His hands moved up, cupping them, rubbing against her tight, pink nipples.

He could feel it building, his control slipping, but it wasn't The Other Guy this time. For the first time in a long time, fear didn't cripple him; didn't sneak up his spine and take over every nerve-ending. It was just pure bliss. His fingers slid between them and pinched her clit between his fore- and middle-finger, watching as her head fell back and her hips stuttered. He pressed up into her, thrusting hard and fast, coming just seconds after she called his name and squeezed all around him.

It washed over him, euphoria and endorphins, making him tingle from the roots of his hair down to the tips of his toes. She swayed slightly before slowly sinking down to lay next to him; boneless, sweaty, panting. He turned his head to look at her, watching as a droplet of sweat trailed from her temple down into her hair. She looked thoroughly fulfilled and pride filled him like it hadn't in years.

He gathered his strength and climbed off the bed, moving to the bathroom to get rid of the condom and clean up.

When he came back, she was still in the same place, her arm tossed over her face, body spread leisurely, completely comfortable.

"I hereby strip you off your mini-status," she told him, her voice rough.

He grinned, climbing across his bed and shifting her so she was laying on it lengthwise. He shoved the blanket down and out of the way, his skin still too warm to pull it up. Darcy settled the thin sheet around their hips and turned onto her side, head pillowed on her arm.

"So?" she asked, licking her lips. "There's a little bit of me still a little worried about your inevitable freak-out…" she admitted.

He turned his chin up to look at her. "I think I've freaked out enough over the last year, don't you?"

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. "I'm pretty sure you hold the record." She shifted to lay her head on his shoulder, her fingers sliding over his chest, drawing patterns. "So I'm not going to wake up to you in super-denial and have to go back to things as they were before?" She wrinkled her nose. "Don't get me wrong, I still want us to do everything we were doing. I just…" She shrugged. "I don't know. I want it to be without the tension and the mixed signals and me looking like a stalker, chasing after you like a fangirl with a serious hard-on for green giants."

He wrapped his arm around her, curving it up so he could bury his fingers in her hair. "I was a jerk."

"You were _scared_ ," she argued. Pausing, she added, "A scared _jerk_."

He laughed.

"No, but…" She looked up at him. "I get it. I get why you were worried," she told him sincerely. "I'm not even saying you didn't have a right to be, because that would just be _stupid_. I'm just saying that after a year and everything that's happened, knowing that Hulk has added me to his short-list of 'do-not-smash,' I think we should stop with all the negativity and ride the happy train for awhile…" Her brows hiked meaningfully. "After all the shit that goes down around here, I think we deserve it." She nodded. "So if you're willing, I vote we trade in our tickets from the angst trip we've been on and transfer over to hot, monogamous couple that occasionally has their lives threatened but always comes home to the safe comfort of each other…" She wrinkled her nose. "I'm working on an acronym, but I've got nothing." She patted his chest. "You think of something, lemme know."

Shaking his head slightly, he stared down at her affectionately. "And the upgrade, what's that cost?"

Turning her head up, she smiled. "A kiss."

He raised a brow. "That's it?"

"Well, it's been awhile," she reminded. "I didn't want you to break a hip or something trying to keep up."

His lips curled in a smirk. "Is that right?"

She nodded, grinning cheekily.

He turned over, pressing her back against the bed, and slid easily between her thighs. "I think we were talking about hypothesis earlier, Miss. Lewis…" he said, his voice deep and low. "I'd like to try an experiment." He ducked his head and pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. "Test my limits, see where my stamina sits at, see if your threshold is as lengthy as mine…" He dragged his teeth over her neck, nipping at her pulse. "What do you say?"

"Ohhh…" she moaned, wrapping her arms around him. "I fucking _love_ science…"

He laughed deeply before it was cut off by her lips smoothing across his, demanding results.

Challenge accepted.

Come morning, the inevitable cry of triumph was issued by Tony as they all met up in the communal kitchen for breakfast, Bruce's hand tucked in a smirking Darcy's.

With a sly grin of her own, Pepper held out a hand and said, "Pay up."

[ **End**.]


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